


I’m finding it hard to believe

by Katfish_1967



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Canon Era, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 19:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17873195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katfish_1967/pseuds/Katfish_1967
Summary: The last thing Grantaire remembered was Enjolras gripping his hand and smiling, and in his opinion, it’s a pretty amazing last memory.





	I’m finding it hard to believe

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song Heaven by Bryan Adams.
> 
> This was written for the prompt: “welcome to the afterlife”

The last thing Grantaire remembered was Enjolras gripping his hand and smiling, and in his opinion, it’s a pretty amazing last memory.

 

His head hurt, and his eyes felt as if they were stuck together with cement. A warmth surrounded him, it wasn’t unbearable but it was dry heat, and it made Grantaire feel as if he was suffocating.

 

A throat was cleared and Grantaire set to work unsticking his eyes. The light was bright and beautiful once he was adjusted. A woman sat near his bed and the room was unfamiliar. She had a large stack of paper on her lap, and of looked hard enough, he could see his name at the top.

 

“Where am I?” His voice was rough, not that this was unusual.

 

“Think of it as a halfway stop between heaven and hell.” The woman smiled kindly at him, as if she hadn’t just casually let him know he was dead.

 

“I died then? In the Musain?”

 

Her eyes softened, sympathy shined through and looked out of place on her almost joyful face.

 

“I’m afraid so.”

 

Grantaire nodded. It was surprise. He had made a split second decisionand, yeah, it had resulted in his death, but he knew he’d made the right choice. Enjolras deserved better than dying alone, not that Grantaire thought his company would be considered much of an improvement.

 

“Are you thinking of him? The blonde boy you arrived with?” He’d arrived here with Enjolras?

 

“Yes. Is he still here?”

 

“No, I’m sorry. He got moved on pretty quickly but you’re an extremely difficult case and we need to have a talk before I can place you where you’re supposed to be.”

 

“How am I a difficult case? I broke at least five of the seven deadly sins on multiple occasions and I only ever thought of myself.”

 

The woman nodded along, shuffling through her papers until she found a section dated 1830-1832.

 

“That is all true, except when it came to the Les Amis. You also sacrificed your chance of survival sosomeone wouldn’t die alone.”

 

“Enjolras.”

 

The woman looked up from where she was scanning her records in confusion. Grantaire coughed.

 

“His name was Alexander Enjolras, the one I died with. I just figured you should know his name. He played pretty vital role in my life.”

 

The woman nodded and pulled a single sheet of paper out of the pile. Obviously finding what she had been looking for, she turned her attention back to Grantaire.

 

“If you hadn’t met Enjolras, this would’ve have been a lot easier for me. You weren’t supposed to die at the barricade. You had a reasonable life ahead of you still, yet you decided to throw it away for one man and a cause you thought was doomed to fail. Why?”

 

Grantaire smiled. This question was as easy for him to answer as one as simple as “what’s your name?”

 

“People do crazy things, when they’re in love.”

 

The woman stood suddenly and walked toward the window, opening it and letting a light breeze. She gathered up his papers from the table and, to Grantaire’s surprise, threw them out the window.

 

She turned back to Grantaire with a blinding smile, as Grantaire tried to form words for what he just saw. She clasped her hands and spoke happily.

 

“Well, Rene Grantaire, I’ve made my decision. Let’s get you to heaven.”

 

//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\

 

Enjolras had settled in a routine of inaction. There’s no need for action where he is, everyone is already happy.

 

It’s true what they say, everyone’s equal when they’re dead.

 

All of the Amis are here, except Marius, who’s living, and Grantaire, who isn’t.

 

Enjolras tried to ignore the dull ache in his chest when he thinks of R. He died for the cause, for him, and he still didn’t make it here. It wasn’t unfair, but it wasn’t as if he could start a revolution in heaven. Like he said, everyone is happy now, which is a lot more than they were when they were alive.

 

Instead, Enjolras tends to a garden he created in Grantaire’s memory. It’s filled with daffodils, which Grantaire considered his favourites as they welcomed spring and meant he could start painting outside again. Enjolras doesn’t know why he knows this, but it’s sweet Grantaire bought into something as hopeful as spring.

 

Enjolras spends a lot of time in this garden. Just like he spends a lot of time staring at a page from Grantaire’s sketchbook that had fallen out during one of their meetings. It’s a picture of him, the personification of righteous fury. The way Grantaire has drawn him makes him seem almost god-like, as if the sketch was actually Helios and not him.

 

Enjolras loves that drawing more than he cares to admit.

 

//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\

 

The first thing Grantaire notices is the smell. Daffodils waft through the air, occasionally mixing with roses and lilies. Heaven is warm, perfectly so. The breeze is a comfort and the lighting seems perfect for painting.

 

Grantaire can’t quite believe he’s here.

 

He wants to explore, wants to find the best place to set up his paints, wants to know if alcohol is allowed, but there is something he wants more than anything.

 

He wants to see Enjolras.

 

Grantaire knows the daffodils are no coincidence. They’re his favourite flower, and only Enjolras knows that. He knows that he should follow the smell to Enjolras.

 

He just can’t will himself to move.

 

Enjolras smiled at him before he died, but that was because he thought he was dying for the cause. Grantaire doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle the look of disappointment on Enjolras’ face as he sighs. ‘Still putting your feelings above those of France’.

 

Grantaire does what he does best, and walks away from his feelings, and away from the scent of daffodils, and away from Enjolras.

 

//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\

 

Enjolras knows when someone else enters the Amis’ slice of heaven. It feels complete. It feels like the final puzzle piece has been slipped into place.

 

‘Huh. Looks like we won’t need that revolution anyway.’

 

Grantaire has arrived and maybe everything won’t be so bad.

 

//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\

 

Grantaire finds the garden, and the man within it, eventually. He decided he spent too much time running on earth. He’s not going to do it here as well.

 

Enjolras is sat in the middle of the sea of daffodils, head bowed slightly as he looks over something in his hand. Grantaire carefully makes his way through the flowers and takes his time place next to Enjolras.

 

They sit in silence for a bit, both having so much to say and no idea where to start. Eventually, it’s Enjolras that speaks first.

 

“I was planning on coming to get you, you know? When you didn’t arrive here with us.”

 

Grantaire huffs a small laugh.

 

“Of course you would plan a revolution in heaven.”

 

Enjolras smiles fondly.

 

“I obviously didn’t get enough of it on earth.”

 

Grantaire snorts, which turns into a full laugh and Enjolras is struck for a moment at how attractive he looks. He thinks this might be the first time he’s seen Grantaire smile, excluding those tinged with self deprecation.

 

Enjolras can’t help himself and let’s his hand tangle with Grantaire’s on the floor. Grantaire’s laughter dies off and Enjolras looks up to find him staring at him with so more hope than Enjolras knew he possessed.

 

Enjolras nodded slightly and let his head fall on Grantaire’s shoulder, enjoying the way the tension seemed to bleed out of the other man.

 

He had a lot of questions. Why did it take so long for him to arrive? Why did he sacrifice himself in the first place? But they didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was that Grantaire was here with him.

 

After all, Enjolras has an eternity to find answers. What’s afew days in the grand scheme of things?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
